An Enchanted Interlude
by lunatroid
Summary: A new FOP story in which Timmy, Wanda and Cosmo have a fun day involving picnics, aerodynamics, and mud. I'm a new author please read and review!


TITLE: "Enchanted Interlude"  
AUTHOR: mooncalf  
RATING: G  
DISCLAIMER: "The Fairly Oddparents" is not mine. It was created by the redoubtable Butch Hartman and is owned by Nickelodeon Studios. The plot ideas and dialogue in this fiction are however mine.  
SYNOPSIS: Timmy, Wanda and Cosmo have a fun day involving picnics, aerodynamics and mud.  
HEADS UP: I've read the fiction guidelines, and believe this story is properly rated G. However, there is some husband/wife stuff at the end, but it's pretty subtle, about as subtle as it is on the show in my opinion.  
And that's it. I really enjoyed writing this. Hope you enjoy reading it!

Ten-year-old Timmy Turner was enjoying a fine spring day and a mini-picnic with his fairy godparents on the edge of his backyard. That part of the yard edged the woods, and the spring breezes brought the scents of pine and freshly-sprouted leaves to the picnickers as they enjoyed their meal. Wanda, his fairy godmother, had conjured up a picnic table, milk, coffee and soda; Cosmo, his fairy godfather, had provided doughnuts. Not exactly picnic fare, but since both Timmy and Wanda liked doughnuts and the sun was warm and the grass was green, neither felt sufficiently motivated to complain about Cosmo's choice.

Timmy opened the box of doughnuts and chose a chocolate glazed with sprinkles. He took a bite. "Mmm...yum. What are these sprinkles made of? They're pretty good."

"If you really want to know what they are, Timmy," said Cosmo, helping himself to some coffee, "maybe you should wait 'til they hatch!"

Timmy spewed his bite of doughnut across the table, missing Wanda by inches. She choked on her coffee and turned on her husband. "Cosmo!" she said in a half-laughing, half-strangled voice. "How could you!"

Cosmo was almost helpless with laughter. "Yeah, I know, I know," he said, trying feebly to pat his coughing wife on the back. "I know, but I couldn't help myself. I just love a good spit-take!"

Timmy wiped the doughnut crumbs and spit off himself and stood up on the picnic bench. He tried to frown, didn't entirely succeed, and then endeavored to look as dangerous as a ten-year-old boy could manage. "You're gonna pay for that, Cosmo."

Cosmo drew himself up. "Bring it on, young wishmaker! But I should warn you, I am master of all forms of self-defense." He demonstrated several vaguely Oriental stances (or perhaps ballroom dance steps, hard to tell) and continued, "Those include jujitsu, karate, kung fu, to-fu, moo goo gai pan, and - OOF!"

While he was posturing and gesturing, his godson had lowered his head and charged. He hit Cosmo solidly in the midsection, and both godfather and godson tumbled off the picnic table and onto the grass, where they rolled around, pushed, shoved, made dire threats and giggled.

Wanda remained on her bench, took a bite of doughnut, and rolled her eyes.

"Men!" she said.

The wrestling match behind her gradually subsided into more giggles, whispers and silence. Then more whispers and giggles. Then another silence.

An ominous silence.

Wanda calmly took another bite of doughnut.

More whispers, noticeably louder this time. "Oooh, look, Timmy! Poor Wanda's just sitting there, all alone, not joining in the fun."

"What do you think we should do about it, Cosmo?"

"I think you should hit her high and I should hit her low."

"_I_ think you should start writing out your Last Will and Testament," said Wanda, and leaped gracefully up in the air as Cosmo, fairy wings whirring, shot through underneath, barely missing her. He zoomed into a nearby thicket where, judging from the sound of impacted wood and rustling leaves, he hit a tree.

Then Timmy was on her. "I got her, Cosmo! I got her!" he shouted as he wrapped his arms around his fairy godmother, pinning her wings against her back.

"Don't make me hurt you, Timmy," said Wanda mildly, and took a sip of coffee.

Cosmo staggered out of the thicket. Since he was an ephemeral supernatural creature, the impact had dazed him, but inflicted no permanent damage. "Hold her, Timmy!" he shouted, and flew at them.

Timmy was just beginning to wonder why Wanda didn't seem to be struggling all that hard when Cosmo snatched her out of his arms and flew away. Timmy fell back on the grass and watched as his godparents soared up into the sky. "Man!" he said. "One of these days I gotta remember to wish that I could fly!"

The fairies flew upward at a dizzying height - or, at least one of them did. Cosmo was holding Wanda tightly against his chest and pinning her wings flat even more firmly than Timmy had. Neither event was conducive to flight. Aerodynamically speaking, Cosmo was in complete control of the situation - and he was loving every minute of it.

"Let's see, where shall we land?" he mused aloud, his tone an equal mixture of innocence and menace.

"Yes, Cosmo," said Wanda. "I think you should think long and hard about that."

Cosmo did a couple of loop-the-loops. He and Wanda usually just teleported from location to location. It had been a long time since he'd actually used his wings for flying. The feeling was exhilirating.

"You were at the health spa the other day," he said conversationally.

"Of course I was."

"With Juandissimo?"

Wanda made a sound of exasperation. "I was not with Juandissimo. He just works there."

"Suuuuure he does."

"Well he does!"

"Suuuuure he does."

Wanda rolled her eyes and gave it up. Cosmo was well aware that his wife harbored no lingering interest in her former Latino fairy lover, but, being possibly the most insecure fairy in the history of the universe, he couldn't help needling her about the subject now and then. Most of the time all he wanted was a little reassurance.

This time all he wanted was an excuse for what he was about to do next.

Wanda felt him shift a little, and suddenly they began a slow descent.

"Cosmo?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Where ARE we landing?"

"On land."

"Well, I figured that. What...kind of land?"

"Wet land."

"Wet land?"

"Wet, soft, sticky land."

"What do you mean?"

Cosmo shifted again, and they picked up speed. "You like mudbaths, don'tcha, baby?"

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Timmy was following the flight pattern of his fairy godparents (on foot, naturally) and wondering why the heck they were heading towards a construction site.

Once he reached it, he skidded to a halt. The site was deserted. Separating him from the idled machinery was a huge ditch. With the recent rain it had filled with water, and one side of the ditch had caved in. Now it was filled with icky sticky gooky mud.

By this time Wanda had managed to twist around a little and look down.

She clutched her husband in a death grip. "Cosmo! If you dump me in that mud...!"

He didn't.

He went in with her.

Timmy watched with mingled horror and delight as his fairy godparents zoomed towards the ditch and then dove straight into its muddy depths with a huge

SPLOOP!

The mud was so thick it didn't actually splash. Cosmo and Wanda bounced off the surface a couple of times and went under.

Whooping, Timmy ran towards the ditch and leaped into the air. "BANZAI!" he shouted as he cannonballed in.

He really shouldn't have shouted, since shouting involves opening the mouth.

Next thing he knew, two pairs of fairy hands had pulled him to the surface and were pounding him on the back.

"You're not supposed to eat the stuff, Timmy," said Cosmo.

The next hour was filled with splashing, mudball fights and laughter from Cosmo, laughter from Timmy, and laughter (and occasional death threats) from Wanda.

A fine icky, sticky, gooky time was had by all.

The doorbell rang, and Mr. Turner went to answer it.

He opened the door to face empty air. He blinked, then looked down.

"Oh, THAT old trick," he said. "And who would leave THIS on my doorstep? Dinkelberg..." he growled, glaring in the direction of his next-door-neighbor's house.

Mrs. Turner came up. "What is it, dear?"

"Oh, it's that old trick where somebody leaves THIS on your doorstep, rings the doorbell and runs. Only usually THIS is in a paper bag, and it's set on fire, and you have to stamp it out and then your shoes reek and AHHH! AHHH! IT MOVED! IT MOVED!"

Mrs. Turner looked more closely at what lay on the doorstep. It appeared to be a smallish clump of something brown. But - was she mistaken, or was there a very soiled pink hat perched on top of it, not to mention a huge, ear-to-ear grin?

"Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!"

"Timmy! Dear, that's our son! Young man, just what have you been up to? You're covered - coated - plastered with -ecch - MUD!"

"Oh, I just had a mud fight with some friends."

"Well, that's just peachy. I'd - no! Oh, no! Don't you move! You're not setting one foot inside this house! What's so funny!" Mrs. Turner snapped at her husband, who was chuckling.

"Oh, just reliving childhood memories. Next to a dog, filth is a boy's best friend!"

"Oh, really. Fine." Mrs. Turner gave her husband a small shove. "If you think it's so funny, then YOU can take him out on the lawn and YOU can hose him down."

Her husband brightened. "I can do that? Really?"

"Oh, BOY," said the clump-that-was-Timmy. "Come on, Dad!"

Timmy ran off the porch, followed by his father. Mrs. Turner firmly closed the door behind them. With a sigh, she walked into the kitchen and stopped.

She frowned. There on the counter was a box of doughnuts. Where had those come from?

Shrugging, she opened the box, selected a chocolate glazed with sprinkles, and sat down at the kitchen table. From outside came the sounds of spraying water hitting the side of the house, whoops and laughter. She rolled her eyes and took a bite of doughnut.

"Men!" she said.

That night, it was simply too nice to stay in the fishbowl so, after Timmy had gone to bed, Wanda poofed out of it and sat on the windowsill so she could gaze upon the moon and the stars.

She had just showered - several times, and was dressed in a negligee and bathrobe. She looked out of the window and smiled. It had been a good day. A messy and somewhat aggravating day, but she had really enjoyed romping around with her husband and godchild. Of course, she had been a target for much of their mischief, but that was okay. She was more than a match for both of them, and they knew it.

Wanda had freed her magenta hair from its sensible twist on top of her head, and now it hung down in long silken waves over her front and down her back. She conjured up a comb and got to work on it.

Cosmo materialized beside her, drying his hair with a towel. "I love the human world," he said. "It's sooooo dirty. Sometimes I think Fairy World is a little too spic-and-span."

"Fairy World suits me just fine," said Wanda, struggling with a tangle.

Cosmo finished drying his hair and poofed the towel away. He sat down on the sill and gazed into the bedroom, dark and snug, its array of furniture and little-boy accoutrements glazed with moonlight.

Their godson lay asleep in his bed. A motionless Timmy was enough of a novelty to bring Cosmo's scattershot attention span into focus.

"Timmy's a great kid, isn't he?" he said.

"Yes, he is," said Wanda.

Cosmo yawned, stretched and lay on his back on the windowsill, resting his head on Wanda's lap. "Wanda?"

"Yes?"

"This one's gonna hurt."

Wanda thought this over. Cosmo often spoke in thought fragments rather than complete sentences, and it was wise not to jump to conclusions.

"You mean Timmy?"

"Yeah."

She sighed and lowered her comb. "Yeah," she said sadly.

It was a subject she and Cosmo normally avoided discussing. Losing a godchild to the inevitable growth process leading to adulthood was never easy. It was the down side to fairy godparenting; the Price, as it was called in Fairy World.

It would, indeed, hurt to lose Timmy.

"Wanda?"

"Yes?"

"We should get ourselves one of those."

"One what?"

Cosmo waved in Timmy's direction.

Wanda chose her next words very carefully. "You mean...a child?"

"Yeah. A child. Ours. One that won't desert us. One that won't forget us."

They had been through this subject before, but Cosmo never tired of talking about it. Perhaps he hoped he would eventually wear her down.

But she could only give him the same answer. "You know we can't, Cosmo. Fairy godparents aren't allowed to have children of their own. It would interfere with their duties to their godchildren."

Cosmo was silent. Wanda gently stroked his hair.

"I know," he said finally, in a voice so low she could barely hear it.

The Price was the reason fairy godparents usually came in pairs. A husband and wife could give each other the emotional support necessary to endure the constant bereavement the godparenting job required.

Wanda pondered this fact with a heavy heart. As if he'd read her thoughts, Cosmo sat up and regarded his wife.

Her rose-quartz eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

"You look so beautiful, Wanda," he said. "You should wear your hair like that more often."

"It'd just get in the way, but thanks," said Wanda.

They exchanged a long, soulful look, then reached for each other.

Both were too busy to notice a sudden stirring that took place in Timmy's bed. A small hand reached out from under his blanket and opened the drawer in the dresser by his bed. It pulled out a flashlight, a pencil and a small notepad.

Crouched under his blanket, illuminated by his flashlight, Timmy opened the notepad and scribbled the following words:

"Dear Diary,

Today was GRATE! I had a picnic with Wanda and Cosmo and we had a fight and then we went to a big mudhole and we had a fight and then we got out and I went home and Mom and Dad almost had a fight and then we played with the hose and Dad squirted Mr. Dinkelberg and they had a fight and it was really funny and Mom got mad and it was all so GRATE! Really GRATE!

As I write this my fary godparents are makeing out on my windowsill. They do stuf like that and then they wonder why I keep asking them about girls and stuf. Not that they ever tell me anything. Anything that makes sense. Wanda says my parents should teach me. Cosmo says that Trixie, Vicky and Tootie are already teaching me. Wanda didn't like that. See? Makes no sense.

Anyway, having fary godparents rocks and I don't care what anybuddy says, I will never ever EVER forget them.

Mud rocks too.

Writing this for posterity and in case I forget,

TIMMY TURNER.

THE END


End file.
